


nine hundred lies

by norio



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 14:03:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7895428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norio/pseuds/norio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“Listen to this! ‘Dear Bokuto-san, I watched your game and it was very good. I think you are great. We have never talked before, but I hope you accept this letter. My friends would say something like ‘it would mean a lot to her if you accepted this…!’ but since I am writing to you directly, I will say I only want you to know this. You are great. I am interested in you. Sincerely, Your Admirer.’” Bokuto paused to allow Akaashi to take in the romantic atmosphere. “Akaashi. This is a love letter! It’s a love letter! I got a love letter!” </p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	nine hundred lies

**Author's Note:**

> my grateful thanks to [this tutorial](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845/chapters/14729722) for the css base and tumblr user [orangiah](http://orangiah.tumblr.com/) for the css help!!

   Akaashi Keiji ≡  
  
AKAASHIRead    
7:30 AM    
  
CLUB ROOM NOW!!!!!!Read    
7:30 AM    
  
URGENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Read    
7:30 AM    
  


When Akaashi first joined the volleyball club, they had all exchanged their phone numbers. Bokuto had sent Akaashi approximately 20,068 texts. Akaashi had never sent him a single one. But nevertheless, he must have read all of them with due and reluctant diligence, because he appeared at the club room door a few minutes after Bokuto had pressed send.

“It’s good of you to join me today,” Bokuto said solemnly. “Please close the door.”

“Is this important,” Akaashi said, with a resigned look that said he already knew the answer. 

“Listen, today was just another day in the life of Bokuto Koutarou. I made breakfast, I burned breakfast, I threw out a pot, I tied my shoes, I left for school. But, Akaashi, today was not just another day. Because guess what I found when I opened my shoe locker!” 

“Shoes.” Akaashi stared at the wall, unblinking and enduring. 

“And! This!” Bokuto knelt down in front of Akaashi to reveal the envelope. The paper was creamy and smooth, and the heart sticker clearly had been purchased from a high-class stationery store, or at least one close to the station. Both letter and envelope had apparently been doused with perfume, a slight peach scent arising atop the heavy aroma. 

“Listen to this! ‘Dear Bokuto-san, I watched your game and it was very good. I think you are great. We have never talked before, but I hope you accept this letter. My friends would say something like ‘it would mean a lot to her if you accepted this…!’ but since I am writing to you directly, I will say I only want you to know this. You are great. I am interested in you. Sincerely, Your Admirer.’” Bokuto paused to allow Akaashi to take in the romantic atmosphere. “Akaashi. This is a love letter! It’s a love letter! I got a love letter!” 

A love letter was the equivalent to the high school Holy Grail. Bokuto tried not to vibrate with excitement, and failed miserably. Someone saw him and admired him, enough to put a letter into his locker. They watched him! At his game! He could only imagine meeting her underneath the billowing cherry blossoms. He’d take her hand in his, and she’d play volleyball with him. Then they would get married and look back upon this letter as a reflection of those nostalgic high school days. They’d be so in love that they probably would get married twice, buy a house, and live somewhere with a volleyball room. 

“We’ll have an Akaashi room, too,” Bokuto said nobly. Akaashi, who was holding the letter by his forefinger and thumb, stared at him. 

“Are you feeling better?” Akaashi finally asked.

“From what?” Bokuto blinked. He could faintly recall being a little down yesterday, something to do with something, but it was all insignificant in comparison to being adored by a secret admirer. It hadn’t even been a very big deal yesterday, either. He’d just stormed away and hid in the storage room for a while and Komi had been forced to drag him out of the gym. Nothing very big.

“Never mind.” Akaashi tucked the letter back into the envelope. “At least you’re encouraged for today’s practice match. It’s important, so please take it seriously.” 

“Of course! I’m going to show her that I’m great at everything! All my serves will be inside the lines!”

“That’s unlikely.”

Bokuto yanked the letter out of the envelope, sitting with his back to the bench. The letter had gotten crinkled from the many times he had folded and unfolded and refolded the edges. He practically had it memorized. 

There was a warmth, bright as the sun, radiating inside him. He could run twenty laps around the school, fueled by that energy. Everything was dazzling and bright and beautiful. But he thought, somewhere inside him, he was also remembering a late night, calm hands, paper cranes. He shook that away, turning back to the unimpressed Akaashi.

“Akaashi,” he said. “Remember, last match you said there was a girl who said I was great? What was she like? Maybe this is her!” When Akaashi didn’t answer, he snuck a glance at him. Akaashi was sitting on the bench properly, his knees reaching Bokuto’s eye line. His back was straight. He had looked away to the opposite end of the room. 

“She was quiet, I suppose.” 

“Wow! What else?” Bokuto rested his elbow on Akaashi’s knee, leaning into him. He liked the warmth, the bony knees, and the hard muscles of his thighs. Akaashi’s fingers twitched over his lap. 

“It’s good that you’re encouraged,” Akaashi said, “but calm down. It’s only a poorly written letter. There’s no reason she had to repeat herself.” 

“Of course there’s a reason! It’s because I’m that great!” Bokuto pocketed the letter into his jacket. “You’ll see, Akaashi. This is the start of something great!”

“Is that so.” Akaashi stood up and adjusted the strap of his bag. He cast a wary look at the letter, like he wasn’t sure what it would start. But Bokuto knew his spring had finally arrived in the fall, and he bounced on the balls of his feet when he leapt up. A letter! A letter for him. It felt warm against his chest, hidden beside his heart.  
  


* * *

  


   Akaashi Keiji ≡  
  
DID YOU SEE THAT SPIKE TODAYRead    
11:30 PM    
  
YOU SAID YOU DID and it was GREATRead    
11:30 PM    
  
THEY DIDN'T SEE IT COMING!!!!! or they couldnt even stop it!!!!!Read    
11:31 PM    
  
ANYWAY hey akaashi~~~~~~~~Read    
11:31 PM    
  
akaashi akaashi~Read    
11:31 PM    
  
tell me more about that girl who said i was super super great tomorrow, ok??Read    
11:31 PM    
  
I CANT SLEEP i keep reading it and it gets BETTER each time!!!!!Read    
11:40 PM    
  
anyway good night akaashi!!!!!!!Read    
11:41 PM    
  
SORRY i got up to pee and i saw the letter and AKAASHIRead    
2:06 AM    
  
i know youre asleepa,a and only read messages in the morning BUTRead    
2:06 AM    
  
ITS REALLY GREAT!!!!!!!!!! ok GOOD NIGHT AKAASHIRead    
2:07 AM    
  


  


* * *

  
They sat outside the gym. The rest of the team had wandered home, and Bokuto hadn’t told any of them about the letter. It just didn’t feel right, but Akaashi was the exception. The sunlight still crowned over the school buildings and the students from the sports teams trickled out the gates. Akaashi had been reading a book, but the light had grown too dim, sifting between the tree leaves. 

“Was it her?” Bokuto nudged Akaashi towards a short-haired girl with a sports bag slung over her shoulder. 

“I didn’t see her face,” Akaashi repeated. “I don’t know.” 

“What about her?” 

Akaashi said nothing. Bokuto kicked his heels into the dirt. He knew it was growing late, but every girl who passed brought a new realm of possibilities. When he thought about it, he didn’t speak to most of the students in the school. He talked with a few people from his class, mostly before homeroom started, and only intermittently. Shirofuku and Suzumeda were automatically ruled out from the suspects, but he had to hunt down the culprit from a few key phrases and Akaashi’s memory of a voice. 

“Your parents won’t be waiting?” Akaashi asked. 

“Nah. They’re probably at my brother’s practice recital. He’s getting real good, too. You should come over and listen sometime.” Bokuto puffed out his chest. “It sounds tinkly and everything, like a professional.” 

“They haven’t been home much lately.” 

“Oh, well, they got work. And if it’s not for my brother, there’s no reason they should go home early. I can make my own dinner and everything.” Bokuto considered this. “Wait, I forgot about dinner! Maybe I can just buy something from the convenience store, get them to microwave it.” 

“I see.” 

“Hey, what about her?” Bokuto wasn’t surprised when Akaashi remained silence. Instead, he folded his elbow onto Akaashi’s back and leaned on his forearm. Akaashi budged forward, but didn’t slump under the weight. He could smell Akaashi’s shampoo, some type of brisk formula wash. The fringes of his hair glowed with faint light from the sunset. He liked it, the light that tumbled upon him. 

“Do you think you’re unpopular?” When Akaashi spoke, his chest rumbled and resonated through Bokuto’s arm. He felt Akaashi more than heard him. He liked that feeling, too. 

“No way! People like me. I’m great at volleyball. You think so, right, Akaashi?” 

“It’s something that can be respected,” Akaashi said, guardedly. “But you don’t have to focus on the letter. Others might like you in the same way.” 

“Really? Do you know anybody like that?” 

“No.” The answer came swift and harsh. Bokuto draped himself heavier on Akaashi’s shoulders, pouting into his arm. Akaashi’s white jacket bunched up at the collar, now, where he had zippered to the highest point. The clouds drifted in a rosy blush, gliding over an orange sea. 

“Well, it’s special because it’s a letter.” Bokuto frowned sleepily, tight against Akaashi’s back. “I guess it’s like, when you go to sleep at night. You close your eyes, right?”

“People generally sleep with their eyes closed.”

“You close your eyes, right? And sometimes, there’s a second where that’s all you know. Just what’s behind your eyelids. Just that much. You get it?” 

“I don’t,” Akaashi said. 

“It’s not that hard, Akaashi! Wait, I confused myself, give me a second.” Bokuto counted back on his fingers. “It’s like—do you ever feel like nobody likes you? Not in the kinda get along with you way, but the real like! The super like. The like that matters. When you close your eyes, in that second, you just kinda worry about that. But something like this letter, you can hold and you can be sure. You ever feel like that?” 

“No.” Akaashi’s answer was swift, but no longer harsh. Bokuto could hear all the rounded edges in his answer. 

“Good.” A surge of warm pleasure rose within him. He wrapped his arms around Akaashi’s shoulders playfully, grabbing him in a tight back hug. Akaashi didn’t move, apparently accepting of his fate. 

“Do you worry about this?” The rumble of Akaashi’s breath. 

“Not a lot.” Because he didn’t, he wasn’t like Akaashi who kept perfectly straight lines in his notebook and filed away any information under three different categories. Most of the time, he thought about what a good spike felt like on the palm of his hand. But sometimes, just sometimes, if he closed his eyes, it felt like the laughter and the back slapping disappeared into an empty house. He would open the door to the darkness and fumble his way to the dining room and eat alone, and go upstairs and struggle through his homework under the single lamp. Sometimes he would hear his parents and his brother crashing through the front door, chuckling to themselves and turning on the lights, and he would stand at the top of the stairs for a second in the cool darkness and stare at where the lights seeped into the carpet. 

This was called a metaphor, because it didn’t really happen to him. Most of the time, the house stayed empty for the rest of the night. 

“I’m pretty smart, right, Akaashi?” Bokuto grinned. “I know the difference between metaphors and smellies.” 

“I see.” Akaashi folded his hands over his book. “We’re having chicken for dinner at my house.” 

“Oh! Sounds good!” It sounded like a good meal. Akaashi’s fingers worked over the plain cover of his book, straightening out the corners with methodical neatness. He would slide his fingers around the spine, pinch the corner, slide to the flap, pinch the corner, slide down again. He seemed to be thinking about something. Probably that it was late, since the sun had now flattened over the curve of the buildings. 

“We should get going, Akaashi. It takes me a while to pick out a dinner at the store because I want everything. Maybe I should get everything.” Bokuto slipped off Akaashi’s shoulders, grabbing where he’d abandoned his bag at the end of his steps. 

“You’ll get a stomachache.” Akaashi had a pinched look on his face. Probably because Bokuto had kept him out too late at night. 

“If you had to guess,” Bokuto said, waiting for Akaashi to slip his book into his bag, “just any guess, what do you think my admirer’s like? Anything! You can guess anything!” 

“Braver.” Akaashi already started a steady pace to the gates. Bokuto jogged to catch up.

“Braver? Braver than what?” Bokuto reconsidered. “Braver than who?” 

But Akaashi kept the sour look on his face while they walked home.  
  


* * *

  


   Akaashi Keiji ≡  
  
GOT~~~Read    
9:33 PM    
  
INSTANT NOODLES~~~Read    
9:34 PM    
  
are you jealous?? youre jealous right!!!!!Read    
9:34 PM    
  
well they weren't that good, but THEY WERE OKAY and i got TWO side dishesRead    
9:34 PM    
  
i hope your dinner was good too!!!!! ok good night akaashiRead    
9:35 PM    
  


  


* * *

  
“Low, Akaashi!” Bokuto was already shouting when the rebound spiraled back towards the court. He’d managed to flick the ball off the blocker’s arm, but the set had been too low for a good spike. Konoha lunged forward for the receive. The ball rose, high and clean, for Akaashi to set. 

Running. Jumping. Smashing the ball over the net. This time, it was a good ball. When he spun around, the manager had flipped the scoreboard. Another good rigorous practice match, and Bokuto wasn’t only saying that because they won. 

“You feeling okay, Akaashi?” Konoha asked later, when they were taking a water break outside. “Not too tired?”

“It can get hot in there,” Komi piped up. “Drink lots of water.” 

“Hey,” Bokuto said, “You never say anything like that for me!” They ignored him, clustering loosely by Akaashi. 

“I’m fine,” Akaashi said shortly. “Bokuto-san, you were a little too fired up today. Please calm down for tomorrow’s practice.”

“I am calm!” 

“You set the ball into your own face.” 

But Bokuto pulled Akaashi aside when they had the gym to themselves and pulled out the letter. Akaashi didn’t look surprised, no eyebrows leaping to the roof. He wrinkled his nose slightly at the perfume. Bokuto himself was surprised the paper wasn’t damp from the aroma. 

“‘Dear Bokuto-san,’ that’s me, ‘I am writing because I have been thinking about you a lot. Is this normal? I don’t know. I think you have an interesting face. Your hair is gray. I think you are great. Please keep me in your mind, too. Sincerely, Your Admirer.” Bokuto flapped the letter in front of Akaashi’s stony face. “Did you hear that! She’s thinking about me! This is definitely a love letter!” 

“Is that so.” Akaashi finally accepted the letter, holding the corner gingerly. “And this pleases you.” 

“Of course, Akaashi! She’s thinking about me everyday! About me!” Bokuto scrambled to sit beside him against the wall. Akaashi had his trusty notebook in his lap, but Bokuto shoved it out of his way to reclaim his place on Akaashi’s lap. He sprawled over him. Akaashi held the letter higher to avoid a collision.

“I’m glad the letter sufficiently raised your spirits for the practice match,” Akaashi said, “but you don’t know anything about the sender of the letter. It’s better not to dwell upon it.” 

“I know lots of stuff about the sender! Look, she wrote that she thinks I’m great.” Bokuto wiggled until he latched onto a comfortable position, staring down Akaashi’s legs. “She’s probably quiet, right? You said she was quiet.”

“There’s no guarantee.”

“I hope she’s nice, too. One of those really nice, polite people.” He slung his arm over Akaashi’s shins dramatically. “But it doesn’t really matter. I hope I get to meet her.”

“She hasn’t mentioned love in any of her letters.”

“She said I’m great! Did you not read the letters, Akaashi?” Bokuto twisted around to give Akaashi a knowing stare. Looming over him, partially shading him from the gym lights, Akaashi’s mouth twisted into a slight grimace.

“You shouldn’t get your hopes up.” Akaashi’s eyebrows had a stalwart sternness to their angle. 

“I’m not hoping for a lot. Let’s see. I hope she’s nice like you, I hope she’s smart like you, I hope she’s a good friend like you. That’s barely hoping for anything at all!” He thought Akaashi had all the good traits in the world. And after all, he couldn’t imagine marrying anyone without Akaashi’s calmness. If he had to think, really hard, about what he wanted in a date, then Akaashi would be the obvious choice. But his secret admirer would surely be as nice.

“If you say so.” Akaashi shifted his legs beneath him, clearly disbelieving. 

“Relax, Akaashi.” Bokuto closed his eyes, feeling the slight rhythm of Akaashi’s feather breaths. “Besides, it’s not like I’d believe it even if she wrote ‘I love you’ on there or something. You can’t trust people.”

“What do you mean?”

“Wait, that’s too dramatic!” Bokuto squeezed his eyes shut even harder. “I mean, you can trust people if it’s like, a game. I trust your sets to be pretty good! And that everyone else plays good, too. But if someone tells you that they like you, Akaashi, you can’t trust them right away. Anybody can say something once.” 

“So how do you trust them?” 

“Oh.” Bokuto hadn’t thought about that part. He turned around again, tumultuous, and partially nuzzling Akaashi’s stomach. He could feel his shirt starting to hike up, shorts riding higher, but Akaashi wasn’t saying his usual keep warm spiel. In fact, Akaashi’s breath had become almost erratic, a fluttery edge to the end of his exhales. 

“Hey,” Bokuto finally said, “You know, my brother was testing for this really smart private school. So my mom made a thousand cranes because she really wanted him to get accepted. They were all over the house! I found them in my shoes. It takes a really long time, too, and they were all really neatly folded. Oh, did I tell you, my brother got the best grades in his class? I told you, right? He’s really smart.”

“You told me.”

“Right! Anyway, you can’t lie a thousand times. Only like nine hundred times, probably. But that’s how you know.” Bokuto always did like resting on Akaashi’s legs, the hard muscles a comforting pillow, the way he breathed. “My mom once told me that she’d always love me. But that was only once. And you kinda know, right? You kinda feel like it once it stops.” 

“You can’t be sure.” Akaashi’s voice had a strange sort of harshness, like he was fortifying his own words and being brave against something.

“Well, you feel it.” But Bokuto didn’t want Akaashi to get depressed over something so petty and useless, so he flickered open his eyes and sat up against him. “But anyway, that’s why you can’t trust people to just like you. If it’s something that important, it’s gotta be something you check, something to hold.”

He had a jumbled memory of coming home from practice and finding his mother hunched over the dining room table, surrounded by colorful paper cranes. They were very pretty and folded with a delicacy that he could never emulate. She would pinch the head, straighten out the wings, and place the crane amongst the hundreds of others. This, he knew for sure, meant his brother was loved. Nobody could lie so many times, not so carefully. 

“Yeah, well. It’s not a big deal. Just make sure to check.” Bokuto nodded to himself.

“That sounds tiring.” Akaashi’s face was strangely red, flushed in his ears. Bokuto frowned and leaned closer, wrist brushing up against Akaashi’s shorts. He’d been so busy wiggling around Akaashi’s lap, he didn’t notice that Akaashi was probably still hot from practice, even if they did their cool down exercises a while ago. 

“I wouldn’t know,” Bokuto said. “It’s not something I do. Hey, I’ll get you some water, okay? You said I was really fast last time, right? Really amazing?”

“I just said you were quicker than normal.” Akaashi glanced away. “Barely.”

“Then I’ll be faster!” Bokuto leapt up and jogged across the gym. He hooked his hand against the door to turn, catching sight of Akaashi still sitting hunched over and tugging his jacket down over his lap. Bokuto picked up his pace. It looked like Akaashi could really use the water.  
  


* * *

  


   Akaashi Keiji ≡  
  
AKAASHIRead    
7:52 PM    
  
MY HOUSE NOWRead    
7:52 PM    
  
EMERGENCY!!!!Read    
7:52 PM    
  
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Read    
7:52 PM    
  
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Read    
7:52 PM    
  
COULD YOU BRING MY BOOKS TOORead    
7:53 PM    
  
think i left them in your lockerRead    
7:53 PM    
  
anyway EMERGENCYRead    
7:53 PM    
  
be here in FIVE MINUTESRead    
7:53 PM    
  
OR TENRead    
7:54 PM    
  
OR FIFTEEN or in an hour but get here RIGHT AWAYRead    
7:54 PM    
  


* * *

  
“What are you doing here?” Bokuto peeked over the gates of his house. Akaashi stared at him for a second too long, unblinking and unyielding. Finally, he held out his cell phone, open to the conversation.

“Oh! Yeah! I didn’t forget.” Bokuto jammed open the gate, allowing Akaashi to pad through. “You have to help me figure out what to wear.”

“Your school uniform is fine.”

“But I’ll be meeting her! It’s gotta be something great. Did I show you the letter? I’ll show you the letter.” Bokuto took the steps two at a time. Akaashi wandered up the steps, glancing at the pictures of his brother that covered every available shelf. Bokuto lead him down the narrow hallway to his room, and grabbed the worn letter from his desk. 

“‘To: Bokuto-san. You have been on my thoughts a lot. I cannot stop thinking about you, or your wonderful volleyball. If it pleases you, I would like to meet you at the park across the school. I will be waiting there at midnight. I have something important to tell you. It is romantically inclined. Sincerely, Your Secret Admirer.’” After Bokuto had finished reading it aloud, he held it out with a flourish, paper brushing against Akaashi’s nose. Akaashi did not move. 

“I’m not sure if this is a good idea,” he said softly. 

“Why not? It’s a great idea. As someone who is five years older than you—”

“One year.”

“—I know enough to know that to know this is a good know. Wait.” Bokuto rubbed his forehead. “Never mind, but I’m going. Should I bring flowers?” 

“You don’t know anything about this person. You might be disappointed.” 

“And how do you know that? Maybe we’ll get along great! She’s probably great at volleyball, too.” Bokuto held out a shirt that said ‘MIGHT’ across the front. “What do you think? Good enough?”

“It’s a bold choice,” Akaashi said, mouth twisting. “Bokuto-san. Please reconsider going tonight.” 

“Akaashi, I know you’re jealous.” Bokuto felt a guilty twist to his stomach when Akaashi stiffened. “It’s okay! I mean, I get it, you’d like a love letter, too.”

“That’s not it.” Akaashi’s shoulders relaxed marginally. 

“Oh. Well, then, I know it’s hard to believe. Maybe I’m not an easy person to like! If it was you, you’d get a love letter that’s fifty page long. I could write a hundred pages, but my handwriting is also kinda big.” Bokuto held out another shirt that read ‘STRENGTH.’ 

“That’s not correct, either.” Akaashi sat his bag on a chair, digging out some books. “But I don’t want to see you get hurt.” 

“I won’t! It’ll all go really well, you’ll see. And sit down already, I got lots of shirts to show you.” Bokuto pressed his hands across Akaashi’s shoulders, feeling a slight resistance. But Akaashi finally sat down on the bed, knees pressed together and hands folded over his lap. He turned his head slightly away from the blankets and pillows, staring dedicatedly out the small window above the desk. 

“What? Does it smell?” Bokuto lifted the blanket and sniffed. 

“No,” Akaashi said. “Even if someone was waiting for you tonight, and they wanted to express their romantic interests. What would you do?” 

“Huh. That’s a good question, Akaashi.” Bokuto plopped down beside him, his ‘PERSEVERANCE’ t-shirt forgotten onto the bed. Akaashi already sat close to the end. Bokuto sat close to him, knee pressed against Akaashi’s thigh. 

“I guess,” Bokuto said thoughtfully, “I’d go out with her. And see if she really meant it. Because you can’t trust people who just say that they like you, I told you. You can trust them on anything else! Just not that.”

“Just that.” Akaashi gripped his fingers together. Bokuto patted his knee, letting his hand linger close to Akaashi’s hands. It was supposed to be something comforting, but Akaashi inhaled softly at the touch and glanced at him with darting eyes. His fingers twisted even tighter when Bokuto began to let go, so he allowed his hand to settle against the stiff uniform cloth.

“What’s wrong?” Bokuto leaned forward, trying to catch Akaashi’s whispery words. 

“I think, one day, you’ll have to trust someone eventually. Without proof.” Akaashi suddenly looked him in the eyes, hand clamping onto Bokuto’s wrist. “Do you understand?” 

“Yeah, of course, absolutely,” Bokuto said, “but not really.” 

“I see,” Akaashi murmured, releasing his grip. “No. Never mind. It’s not wrong to expect something, if you want to confirm someone’s feelings. It’s practical and it explains things about the way you act.” 

“Hey, are you calling me clingy?” Bokuto could almost have been insulted by that. He didn’t consider himself clingy, just very enthusiastic in other ways. But Akaashi shook his head, giving him a dry stare, like it was ridiculous to even consider the issue.

“No,” Akaashi said, slow and deliberate, “The opposite. You’re good at showing affection.” 

“I am, aren’t I!” Bokuto grinned, and then stopped grinning. “I’m not, am I? It’s normal, Akaashi!” 

“Is it,” Akaashi murmured. “I’m not sure. I’ve never needed to be affectionate with someone. I had wrongly assumed it would come more naturally.” 

“Yeah?” Bokuto nodded thoughtfully along. “Well, it’s like I always say. It’s nothing to feel sad about, Akaashi, because I’m here and I’m really good at everything, so just rely on me!” 

“I would if it wasn’t about…” Akaashi’s forehead creased. “Have you ever—thought that something would be waiting for you, so you’ve put it off, because you never learned how to be—softer, or better, or gentler, and you never cared to learn—but something happens, and you have to learn quickly, but it turns out it’s hard, not to hurt someone. But everything is happening so quickly.” Rarely did Akaashi speak so much, and rarer for him still to speak almost hurriedly, like the breath was wisping from his mouth. It would have been better if there were two Akaashis there, because Akaashi always knew what to say. One Akaashi could be sad and the other could comfort. But there was only one Bokuto. He clumsily took Akaashi’s hands into his own, letting the thin fingers nestle into his palm. Akaashi didn’t look up, but he gripped his fingers warmly.

“One time,” Bokuto said, “I bought some pudding and I thought it’d be there in the fridge, but my brother ate it. Is that what you mean?” Akaashi made a weird sound. A second later, Bokuto realized it had been some sort of choked laugh. When Akaashi glanced up, he had an amused glow to his eyes, a gentler mouth.

“No.” Akaashi inclined his head. “Never mind. Please continue showing me the inside of your closet.” 

In the end, Akaashi didn’t try to stop him from going to the midnight rendezvous. Though before he left, Akaashi threw one last, almost angry, look at the letters. Bokuto flipped the light switches in the dark house, leading the way back to the door. Akaashi hovered near the doorway. 

“Please let me know how it turns out,” Akaashi said shortly before he left. Which was strange, because Bokuto always told Akaashi everything. But he didn’t dwell on the statement because he still had to choose between his ‘FORTITUDE’ and ‘VIGOR’ shirts, and neither really seemed romantic enough for the occasion.  
  


* * *

   Akaashi Keiji ≡  
  
IM HERE AKAASHI its cold and lateRead    
12:03 AM    
  
shes late!!!!!!! maybe ill get madRead    
12:10 AM    
  
just joking I wont get mad, but its still cold!!!!!!!!! Read    
12:12 AM    
  
maybe shes nervous?????!Read    
12:12 AM    
  
im nervous too!!!!! what should isay? if she gets here? Read    
12:15 AM    
  
maybe HI IM BOKUTO but she already knows that, right??? but if i said HEY IM AKAASHI shed know it would be a lie……Read    
12:15 AM    
  
wow,shes really late!!!!! im going to laugh a lot when she gets here, its really lateRead    
12:30 AM    
  
wow,shes really late!!!!! im going to laugh a lot when she gets here, its really lateRead    
1:00 AM    
  
did I get the time wrong??? maybe she really meant afternoon instead of midnight and she spent all afternoon waiting here and i never showed up!!!!!!Read    
1:20 AM    
  
lets go to an owl place sometime~~~Read    
1:25 AM    
  
maybe she got lost?? i hope shes ok because its easy to get lost!! going to schoolRead    
1:30 AM    
  
thinking about tomorrow, what about two on twos??Read    
1:30 AM    
  
im sure shell be here soon!!!! maybe she got distracted like me, not that iget distractedRead    
1:33 AM    
  
hey you know owls can do the head turn thing maybe i can do it TOORead    
1:50 AM    
  
the good news is nothing hurts, absolutely not, bad news is cant do itRead    
1:55 AM    
  
cold cold cold~~~ cold cold~~~~ cold cold cold cold cold~~~~~Read    
2:00 AM    
  
anyway im sure shes just late, she will be here soon, ill let you go to sleep so good night akaashiRead    
2:05 AM    
  


* * *

  
Bokuto could remember scraping his knee in the park. 

The moon traipsed perilously over the school roof, shining a low light over the empty sand pit and swaying swings. Someone had left a red pail stuck in the bushes, hidden from all except at the high angle. Bokuto sat atop the small slide, arms hooked over the plastic roof. On his phone, videos of an old international volleyball match played on his screen. He’d seen this particular clip many times, a source of comfort and inspiration all the same. The wing spiker started their run. The slide ladder squeaked as someone climbed up behind him. By the time the clip finished, ball securely smashed onto the other side of the court, someone stood on the small platform behind him.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he told his phone, scrolling through to find another video. “Don’t you turn your phone notifications off until the morning?”

“I’ve made exceptions for some contacts.” 

“Oh. Sorry you wasted a trip, though. Looks like nobody’s coming.” Bokuto picked one where the wing spiker did a particularly cool set. He liked that video, too. The images flickered over the small screen.

“Then go home.”

“She might be late. Or nervous. Or forgot about the time.” Bokuto shrugged. “It’s okay. You go back first.”

“You said you were cold.”

“It’s okay.” The lights from his cell phone scattered over his thumbs. “You know, my brother’s smart. Real smart. My mother, she likes to talk about the time when he was a kid and he figured out this, one of those blocks test, it was really complicated. But it showed he was really smart. He’ll probably get into a good university and do a lot of good stuff. Science, maybe.” Bokuto chuckled, smug, though he wasn’t surprised to only hear shallow breathing behind him. 

“He’s always been the family favorite, and it’s okay. He’s my favorite too, you know? I’m proud of him.” The video ended and the screen dimmed. “But I thought it’d be nice if I was someone’s favorite, too. So this kinda hurts. It’s my own fault, I know! I got my hopes all up because I thought this was proof, real proof, that someone liked me. But I forgot. It was only three letters, and you need a thousand.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Nah. Nah! It’s okay.” And it was, even if it wasn’t, because things generally were okay. He just had to think about the good feeling of spiking balls and running around the court and the lunging for the receives and all the good things, and not about eating cold dinners alone in an empty house with every light turned off because it was fine, just like that, it was fine. 

“Are you…”

“I’m fine.” But he must have slurred his words from the cold, chapped lips and icy teeth, and he draped against the hood of the slide and thought he must have scraped his knees all over the park. It was better this way, really. And he had been loved, once, too, and that was a lot. It was enough. It’d have to be enough. He wasn’t sad. He heard shuffling behind him and the platform creaked. 

“It was me.” 

“What?” Bokuto twisted around, confused. He almost flinched to see Akaashi had somehow knelt beside him, close enough for him to see the red of his ears. Akaashi’s hands had slipped into his jacket pockets. He spoke softly, but urgently.

“I wrote the letters. Three letters. I… wrote them so you’d focus on the practice games, but they spun out of control. I invent people to make you feel better. I didn’t know you’d take it so hard. But I couldn’t stop because I do—I do, have feelings for you. I have feelings. For you. So please.” Akaashi exhaled a thin cloud of frosty breath.

“You wrote the letters?” Bokuto asked numbly. His head spun around and around. 

“Yes.” Akaashi hesitated. “It’s fine if you’re angry.” 

“Well, yeah, I’m angry?” Bokuto thought the warble in his voice sounded more confused. “Wait, feelings? What kind of feelings? Like, hunger?”

“I wrote the fake letters and I wanted to put an end to it, and I thought it was better if you never knew the true person, so I arranged a fake meeting. I didn’t intend to come. But I didn’t think you’d wait so long.” Akaashi avoided his eyes. 

“People will get mad at you for doing that, Akaashi.” It would be best to teach Akaashi a lesson as his elder, but he still sounded confused despite himself. 

“I know. I’m sorry.” Akaashi’s eyes flickered upwards, once, before darting back to the ground. “How—do you feel about me?” 

“You? I mean, I like you, Akaashi. I really do.” He did like him. Out of the hundred best people in the world, Akaashi probably took up all hundred slots. He still had a hard time imagining Akaashi writing the dramatic love letters, but he could forgive that, too. And if he thought about holding hands with Akaashi, that seemed nice. Really nice. 

“Good,” Akaashi said, almost like a whisper. 

“But—do you really like me—because, Akaashi, aren’t you confused—” Bokuto only just begun when Akaashi stiffened up his shoulders. He must have done something wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what could have been so terrifying about his question. 

“You don’t have to answer now. It’s cold and it’s late. You should go to bed.” Akaashi rose to a kneeling position. “I’ll walk you back.” 

“Wait,” Bokuto said, but he had to hurry to clamber up. Akaashi already had started down the ladder again. 

At least if Akaashi lived with him, every room would be an Akaashi room. But he had a strange sense that he was missing a piece of the puzzle, something dragging out of his reach. He didn’t think Akaashi as the type who wrote letters, fake or not, but he also had never really thought about it much at all. He had always relied on Akaashi’s quiet presence beside him, the fierce burn in his eyes, his tempered tone. His sleep-muddled mind tried to work through it, but he could only stare, befuddled, at the back of Akaashi’s neck. 

“So what does this mean?” Bokuto caught up to Akaashi with a few steps. “Can you still come to my house?”

“I can.”

“I can still eat with you at school, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll call me every night?”

“I’ve never done that.” Akaashi finally halted, and Bokuto almost ran into him. But it was like running into him in a different way, because Akaashi had always been Akaashi, and now he was even more Akaashi than before. He was Akaashi, but he was also looking away, down the street, though nothing was there. Bokuto touched his shoulder, and Akaashi breathed. 

“Hey, Akaashi.” His voice seemed louder in the empty street. “Are you telling the truth?” Because a part of him would have liked that, to date Akaashi and have a house and a volleyball room and maybe watch Akaashi get flustered and hold his hand, maybe, but he couldn’t be sure. It was like he was always chasing after his own tail, pretending he didn’t want what he wanted. 

But Akaashi only twisted away, like he was shielding himself. “Go to sleep, Bokuto-san. You’ll think more clearly in the morning.” 

In the frigid night, Akaashi looked like he wanted to say something more. But he only twisted his mouth and left Bokuto at what he now recognized as his house. He didn’t bother to go inside, but rested his hand on the cold metal gate and watched Akaashi’s back recede into the night. 

It was strange, he thought. But it made a whole lot of sense, too. 

He turned to enter his empty house.  
  


* * *

  
In the end, he didn’t get much sleep. By the time he had collapsed into bed, the threat of sun had spread across the sky. He tossed and turned for a while, too, thinking about the best way to take Akaashi on a date, and what dates were like, and if he should choose ‘MIGHT’ or ‘PERSEVERANCE’ or maybe even some completely new shirt with cool new words on it, even if Akaashi didn’t appreciate them, but now that they were dating, maybe he needed something else for his wardrobe, too. Was that dating? 

“A haunted doll museum,” he mumbled, half-asleep but absolutely convinced that it was the best and only place Akaashi would accept as a first date. 

“Okay,” Komi said. “Should I ask? I don’t want to ask.” 

“What?” Bokuto stirred, blinking blandly into the morning. He had somehow gotten to school earlier than usual, probably because he was tormented by small Akaashis who sneered at his taste in first date locations. But the haunted doll museum was priceless. Komi walked with him past the bike racks, looking none too awake for himself.

“Anyway, like I was saying, Konoha went to deal with them. Don’t worry, he really gave it to them. Shut ‘em up real good.” Komi nodded. “He challenged them to a volleyball match.”

“What! I want to play! I can play, right? Akaashi too.” Bokuto woke up at the thought of a match, eyes shooting wide open.

“I guess you can play, but this is supposed to be revenge, you know that, right?” Komi crossed his arms with a slight harrumph. 

“Revenge?” 

“Yeah, because those jerks from my class thought they were all funny, stuffing your locker with fake love letters. They should know better! They’re third-years.” Komi shook his head, swinging his disapproval from side to side. 

So that was the missing puzzle piece. 

When they approached the side of the building, the one with the row of tangled trees, Akaashi had been walking slowly down the opposite path. It didn’t look like he had been waiting for them, but none of his second year friends were around. He nodded politely at Komi and glanced at Bokuto. But Bokuto had never been good at lying, and he thought it showed, the revelation, because Akaashi winced with a slight grimace and looked like he was collapsing from a tower of cards.

“Hey, Komi,” Bokuto said, trying not to sound too strange, “I’ve got to talk to Akaashi—Akaashi things—I’ll see you—”

“Yep, sure.” Komi waved at them carelessly, already meandering away. 

“Akaashi,” he said, and when Akaashi flinched, he petered off with, “Hey.” He was going to say he was angry, to blame him in vicious declarations, but Akaashi was holding himself like he was carved from glass.

“Hey,” Akaashi said softly. Bokuto grinned at him, just a small smile, to show him that it was fine. Everything was fine.

“So,” he began, “you didn’t write the letters.” 

“I didn’t.” 

“Are you sure?” which was a dumb question, he thought, but he had to ask because he had stopped feeling certain about anything. 

“I suspected the letter’s authenticity. The phrases were too simple. The last letter had a dramatically different style.” 

“So you knew!” Bokuto shoved his finger into his face, half-elated and half-hurt. He hurriedly moved his finger away at Akaashi’s stung expression, the slight squeeze on his eyes. “Sorry, I mean—”

“It was a possibility. I couldn’t be sure if I wasn’t being petty.” Akaashi tightened his fingers over the strap of his book bag. “I only stopped by the park last night to make sure you went home. My lie was spontaneous. I thought—even if it was real, they were cruel to have left you waiting, and it’d be better—it was selfish, but I thought it was a chance. I didn’t want to see you get hurt. Hurt more.” 

“You lied.” Bokuto wanted to stop himself from sounding angry, because he was still trying to smile and the whole thing became a menacing front. But he couldn’t, because he was angry, even if it wasn’t at Akaashi. 

“Yes.” Akaashi didn’t meet his accusatory gaze. “I lied.”

“That sucks, Akaashi.” Bokuto screwed up his face, trying to quell the raging upset within him. “I’m gonna get mad.” 

“Please do.” Akaashi’s words were barely a breath. It wasn’t fair, because when Akaashi put it like that, then Bokuto felt like he was the wrong one. And just like that, the steady anger building inside him became a cold puddle on the bottom of his stomach, because he wasn’t going to stand there and yell at Akaashi when Akaashi looked like he ate the last pudding in the refrigerator and he’d been caught in the act. 

“Well,” he said, “I kinda figured it wasn’t you, Akaashi. It would have been too mean. It’s just not like you.” 

“I’ve lied to you before,” Akaashi said. 

“Yeah, I guess. But you’re not mean. You lie to be nice?” He wasn’t sure if he was making any sense, but he also thought the letters had been mean. He didn’t feel vindictive to the culprits, and he wasn’t particularly hurt. It was more like an ache, a dull throb inside him that never stopped. So he thought he could objectively say it had been mean in a meanness that Akaashi didn’t possess. The words had been malicious, and he had a vague sense of being crushed and something inside him destroyed. There was the mean mean, of course, like the letters that had meant to hurt him. There was a sort of mean, a not really mean where his parents talked over him sometimes. And there was Akaashi.

“I’m sorry,” Akaashi murmured.

“Oh. Okay.” Bokuto shrugged. “But you don’t have to apologize. It was really nice of you to pretend to like me. Was it because you wanted me to do well in practice today? Because I always do well—”

“I do like you. That wasn’t a lie.” Akaashi stared him in the eyes, jaw clenched and face suddenly full of certainty. “Please believe me.”

“Yeah, but, Akaashi.” Bokuto ran his fingers through his hair, trying to work out the gentlest way of explaining something so simple. “Aren’t you just, you know. Thinking about the team?”

“I’m thinking about you.” 

“Maybe you’re just confused because you respect me so much.”

“That’s definitely not it.”

“It could be a little bit it.”

“It’s not.” 

“Akaashi, you don’t like me.”

“Don’t you trust me?” 

“That’s not it,” Bokuto said miserably. He would trust Akaashi would his wallet, his grades, his life. Akaashi was his teammate. In fact, Akaashi was the most trustworthy person in the whole wide world. But love wasn’t something that could be trusted. That was just a fact. It could start with being berated about grades, the comparisons to others, but it ended with the quiet in the house. It wasn’t Akaashi’s fault that he might not like him. And Bokuto knew that he was overwhelming, sometimes, pestering Akaashi until Akaashi reluctantly admitted that he had seen the cool moves or he’d been impressed by Bokuto’s skills, and that was enough for him, like droplets in the desert. He could quench his parched throat, but still know better than to expect a well. 

“What will it take?” Akaashi murmured. 

“It’s okay, Akaashi. Forget about it. We got a fake match after school, I think, and it’s a revenge match so it’ll be really good. Let’s focus on that.” Bokuto clumsily patted his shoulder. Akaashi barely moved from the weight. 

After a moment, Bokuto awkwardly turned to stomp back to the school building. Homeroom would begin soon, and he liked to get there early enough to start on his sleep. His phone buzzed, and he absently pulled it from his pocket, expecting a confirmation date and time from Komi. 

   Akaashi Keiji ≡  
  
I like you.  7:20 AM  


Curious, Bokuto twisted back around. Akaashi had his phone drawn out, fingers flickering over the screen. Bokuto wondered what he was doing until another message buzzed his phone. 

   Akaashi Keiji ≡  
  
I like you.  7:20 AM  
  
I like you.  7:20 AM  
  
I like you.  7:20 AM  


“What are you doing?” Bokuto said, laughing, because it was funny. And then it wasn’t, because Akaashi was gnawing down his lower lip and his fingers were darting fast enough across the screen that his fingers across the screen were the only sound. Bokuto’s phone rumbled in his hand.

   Akaashi Keiji ≡  
  
I like you.  7:21 AM  
  
I like you.  7:21 AM  
  
I like you.  7:21 AM  
I like you.  7:20 AM  
  


“Akaashi, wait—” Bokuto jogged back beside him, phone buzzing again and again, a constant harrowing din. “What are you doing? You’re gonna tire out your fingers.”

   Akaashi Keiji ≡  
  
I like you.  7:22 AM  
  
I like you.  7:22 AM  
  
I like you.  7:22 AM  
  
I like you.  7:22 AM  
  
I like you.  7:22 AM  
  
I like you.  7:22 AM  


“Akaashi!” Bokuto grabbed Akaashi’s phone. He didn’t expect Akaashi to actually grab for it, long fingers digging into Bokuto’s hand. He seemed desperate in a way Bokuto hadn’t seen before, unspun and a little bit broken, too. 

“Give it back,” Akaashi said, a low warning. 

“No! I mean, probably later, but why?” Bokuto held the phone out of his reach, even while Akaashi clamped his hand down on his arm. 

“Because you don’t believe me.” Akaashi never lost his composure, not really, but he had a frayed look about him like a single loose thread in his impeccable uniform, like he was slowly losing himself. “Because this is proof. I’m not—good at this. I can learn, but I never had to learn. For now, this is the best I can give. Proof. A thousand things you can hold.” 

“That’s not what I meant!” 

“Then what do you mean?” Akaashi twisted his mouth. “What can I do to convince you?”

Bokuto didn’t know. He just didn’t want Akaashi to type it out, over and over again, a thousand times until his fingers had become numb and flushed at the tips. He wanted a thousand paper cranes, but he also wanted Akaashi to stop breathing so heavily and leaning on him with the entirety of his weight. Honestly, he had more proof that Akaashi disliked him than liked him. For one thing, Akaashi might read his messages, but he never responded to them. 

But he still read them. 

That was true, he thought. Akaashi always read his messages. And when he asked Akaashi if he’d been impressed, over and over again, Akaashi always responded that he was. Whenever he was thirsty or hungry, Akaashi was there. Akaashi stayed with him after practice for more practice. Akaashi walked home with him. And none of this was really proof, nothing tangible that he could hold. He could brush it all away, and he could even be right. Maybe Akaashi really was so diligent and so polite. 

And maybe he had to trust someone, sometime. 

“Akaashi,” he said, “You like me.” Because he didn’t want to think about Akaashi bending at his back and folding thousands of small pieces of paper, hurting himself to prove something. 

“I’m not lying,” Akaashi finally said, a sense of jitteriness underlying his voice. 

“Yeah. I believe you.” Bokuto gripped his arms. “I really do.” 

Akaashi stood on his own, looking at Bokuto warily. But something in Bokuto’s expression must have convinced him because he smiled, small and secretive. Bokuto resisted in asking if Akaashi meant it, really meant it, really really meant it, because if he closed his eyes and kept quiet, he thought he would believe Akaashi with all his heart. 

“I’m gonna be really annoying, Akaashi. I’ll forget and I’ll ask you if you like me.”

“That’s fine.”

“I’ll eat dinner with you. Like every night! And I’ll make you call me. Or I’ll call you.”

“Yes,” Akaashi said, looking strangely pleased. “You’re my favorite, too.”

He didn’t know how Akaashi knew he was his favorite, but a surge of pleasant warmth began inside him again. He didn’t know what he was feeling. Gratefulness, perhaps, or a love so deep that it shocked him. He only laughed and pulled Akaashi into a hug, wrapping his arms around him and feeling Akaashi’s hot, quickened breath on his shoulder. He couldn’t point to any single thing that could prove that Akaashi liked him, but he knew, in that moment, that he did. It wasn’t the grandiose statement of love, but the overwhelming quiet that moved him.


End file.
